Words

"Words are but symbols for the relations of things to one another and to us; nowhere do they touch upon the absolute truth."  ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

Words, we all use them.  Words, they help communicate our needs, desires, pleasure, disdain.  I’m using them right now to communicate with you, Dear Reader.  One of the greatest events I witnessed was my grandsons learning language through sign language before they could talk.  They were communicating with words before most children do much more than cry, point and try their darnedest to make their wants known.  If these two toddlers wanted something to eat or drink, they told me with words.  Exciting!

Sometimes our words run all over each other and at other

times we cannot find the words to express what we feel, need to communicate.  Relationships grow and change and fall apart (not necessarily in that order) through words as well as actions.  Some of us use a language with a set alphabet that is put together in ways to make words which we, who speak that language, understand.  One of the first pieces of knowledge I gained when I traveled to China was that with the Asian languages where a symbol represents a whole word, most people never learn all the symbols for their language.

So what do we do with our language made up with words?  One thing we can do is tell stories.  We can pass down family stories so that future generations know why Uncle Oscar wouldn't speak to his sister and she wouldn't speak to him for the rest of their lives.  How did our parents and grandparents meet and fall in love, or did they fall in love?  How did we come to be?

The folktales and fairy tales which are a large piece of our collective heritage are fun to learn and tell and retell and change a bit and retell again.  I learned how to do this at a young age.  Mom read many folktales and fairy tales to my sisters and me.  I retold them as best I remembered, while sitting in the rock garden, to my imaginary brother who never seemed to be around for Mom’s reading.  It was fun.  I corrected what I’d forgotten with the subsequent readings of the same tales.

Have I told you the absolute truth with my words? No, I have only told you my truth.

What do you use your words for? 

(Come back for the next installment which will include a story or two.)

If you found this post interesting or useful, please let me know by leaving a comment.  Your words will let me know that I am not just blowing hot air into the atmosphere.  Thanks.

Julie Moss © 2015

H is for Hard Stories – Bluebeard and Mr. Fox

Some stories are easier to hear/read than others.  For me Bluebeard was exceptionally difficult to read; and yet I could tell Mr. Fox, a variation of Bluebeard, with no difficulty.  I believe part of the difference between the two stories was my introduction to each of them. 

 

Mr. Fox was a story on Connie Reagan-Blake and Barbara Freeman’s cassette tape, Chillers, which I acquired back in the 1980’s.  I heard Connie tell it in the bone chilling way she has.  It was my signature Halloween story while I was working at a High School and Middle School library. 

Bluebeard is one of the first stories Clarrisa Pinkola Estes puts forth in her book, Women Who Run with the Wolves.  My mother purchased the book for me at my request when it first came out.  I tried several times to read it and could not make it through Bluebeard without whimpering.  The first time the phenomenon occurred, I kept looking about to see where the whimpering came from.  When I realized it was me, I put the book aside.  I’m happy to say I finally made it all the way through the book two years ago, and I got a lot out of it.

Beside the fact that one story was heard, for the first time in a gathering of librarians, and the other was read by myself with no one else around; what is different?  Why was I able to tell one of them and could not even finish the other?

Perhaps it is the fact that in Mr. Fox, Mary is not married.  She is free to choose rejection and does.  The youngest sister in Bluebeard actually marries him and is captive in his castle.  Is that how I saw my marriage?  Was I a captive?  Did I deserve my fate?  As a younger woman, I thought I believed all that.  Now, as I was two years ago, I am wiser.

Our lives are reflected in the stories we tell and don’t tell.  Do you try to tell difficult tales?  

D is for Dads

Daddies are little girls’ first love.  I’ve found stories about Fathers that I have used for Father’s Day programs on my radio show, but the Dad stories I love most are the ones I tell about my own dad – my first love.

Most of these stories aren’t even about my dad and me; they are about my dad as a youngster.  For instance Dad won a horse when he was eight.  Well a pony – a mean Shetland pony named Fannie Mae (yep, you read that right).  But Fannie Mae was pregnant and so my dad also won Stormy who was more like a big dog that a Shetland pony.  Stormy stayed with dad’s family for a year and a half until Dad was too big to ride him, then he was sold to a man who wanted a pony for his little boy.  Dad, at 9, was in on the transaction.

Or there’s the story about the first “Got Milk?” picture.  Yes, my grandfather came up with the picture idea – not the slogan.  He hired a photographer to come and take pictures of his children drinking milk as an advertising campaign for his dairy.  As my aunt told the story, they had to drink milk and grin all afternoon.  Dad looks like he might have been in kindergarten or first grade, his shock of unruly straight black hair stood straight up from his head, thus earning him the nickname Fritz – from the Katz ‘n’ Jammer Kids comic strip.

Stories about our parents become more poignant as we age and our parents leave us.  My dad, my first love, left early – he was only 60.  But he lives on in the stories I tell about him and his adventures as a child.

 

C is for Cats

Most of my life I have been owned by or at least influenced by a cat or two.  At present there is a small black cat who shares my abode.  She keeps me company and complains when I've been gone while ignoring me most of the time I am home.

One of the earliest stories I remember is Millions of Cats written and illustrated by Wanda Gág.  So it wasn’t surprising to me that I learned to tell Millions of Cats early on in my storytelling career.  I was teaching second grade and used my storytelling skills to enhance my teaching and to keep the children engaged while we had to wait – for lunch, for P.E., for recess, for library.  Right away they learned the refrain, “Hundreds of cats, thousands of cats, millions and billions and trillions of cats.”  And chanted with me each time I used the refrain.  Sometimes we enacted the story with the children being the cats trailing behind me as we “went over the sunny hills and through the cool valleys.”  For a Summer Reading program, where a craft was expected to go along with the stories, I came up with the idea of paper bag cat puppets.  The story has grown and changed through the years, but it is still one of my favorites to tell.

Other cat stories that come to mind are Puss in Boots, The Cat Who Went to Heaven, The White Cat, and, of course, the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland.

Here is a link to a great cat blog.  

B Is for Blogging

For me, blogging started as a way to let people know what I was doing, where I was telling stories and a place to post pictures of those storytelling events.  It has since morphed into more of an informational based blog.  However I have not blogged in over a year which is why I decided to take the challenge of blogging 26 days in April.

We've all read various blogs.  We know most bloggers write about what they know.  Their observations, experiences, thoughts.  There are cooking blogs, dog blogs, blogs for “cat ladies,” blogs about writing, storytelling blogs and the list goes on and on. 

In writing today’s blog I discovered something I did not know – the origin of the word blog.  Back in the 90’s when blogs began they were called weblogs.  That’s web + log = weblog.  But someone who could be considered a wordsmith changed weblog to blog, one syllable is faster to say than two.  And isn't this the technological age where everything is going faster and faster?

So, what does a storyteller/writer blog about?  If you guessed Story, you won’t surprised to be told – “That’s right!”   Stayed tuned!

A Is for April's Fool

Today being April Fool’s Day, I thought it appropriate to begin with April’s Fool.  The fool in story is a common phenomenon. The medieval court jester or fool had the king’s ear, was to amuse the king - so the king thought.  But the Jester or Professional Fool could tell the king anything.  And maybe, just maybe the king would listen.  So saith my jester friend, Miles Eddy.  And believe me, Miles is nobody’s Fool.

Then there are the noodlehead stories.  Stories where a character or characters are so foolish that the audience waits only for the scene to be set.  After which the audience anticipates how the story will go.  The noodlehead stories are in many cultures.  Such stories include the Fools of Chelm (Jewish), foolish Jack (British), Nasreddin Hodja (Turkish), Jean Sot (Cajun), and lazy Heinz (German), Polite Jack (Appalachia).  And, yes, there is a southern noodlehead tale, some of you may have heard it – Epaminondas.  Sara Cone Bryant wrote down Epaminondas and His Auntie in 1907.  Whether the story was concocted in Ms Bryant’s head or someone told it to her, I do not know. 

My mother told the story to me when I was a child in the 1950’s.  When I needed a foolish story to tell in a workshop a friend and I were giving, I thought of Epaminondas, found my copy and learned it.  Recently (2002) Epossumondas and His Auntie was written by Coleen Salley and illustrated by Janet Stevens.  In this version of the story the main character, a boy, is replaced with a possum.  So it is the possum who is the fool.  This was when I was still working as a school librarian.  It was a student who brought home to me the fact that I could pair my telling of Epaminondas with a reading of Epossumondas for a compare and contrast lesson.  And be sure you hear the version Donna Washington tells!  Auntie is Grandma in her version.  It was my grandsons’ favorite story the year I lived in Florida and was their caretaker because, “Even if you drive your mama crazy, your grandma will always love you.”

You might also enjoy Donna's Blog - she tells it like it is when comes to Language, Literacy and Storytelling!

We've all done foolish things from time to time.  Noodlehead stories help us laugh at ourselves when we do.  When was the last time you laughed at yourself?

It's All About Story

Everything we do, everything, can be formed as a story.  A story we can tell to others so they know more about us.  A story we can weave together for entertainment.  A story we can use to teach a lesson.  Oh there are so many uses for Story.  If only, as the old parable says, we dress Truth in Story's finery, people will listen.


Stories come to us in a variety of ways.  Some of my blogs will be about how a particular story came to me.  Other blogs will be a story-gift from me (teller) to you (reader/listener).  Sometimes I will tell you about the story's journey from discovery (by me) to the telling (to an audience).  As a former teacher and librarian I used stories in my work, some of the upcoming blogs will explain how I used a story in my work.

High School Civics via Story

               Anecdotal Proof of Story in our lives abounds.  Here’s yet one more.  I am reading Kendall Haven’s ground breaking book Story Proof: the Science behind the Startling Power of Story.  He has been invited to be and accepted being the featured headliner for the Spring Storytelling Conference put on by Rocky Mountain Storytellers in April, 2013.  And because I am producing the conference, I have had the pleasure of email and a phone conversations with him.  Kendall is a very generous person when it comes to Story and his research.

Now to the anecdote.  The Conejos Writers’ Circle to which I belong met last night to share something we had written for guidance and critique.  Because I had recently gone through my files purging unneeded paper for recycling, and because of my recent conversations with Kendall, I thought of an old paper I had written as a senior for my high school civics class.  Which, yes, I still have although it is yellowed and frayed.  And which I did not purge.  Why?  Because of the written conversation recorded at the bottom.  My typed comment: “Mr. Staib, I hope you don’t think I’m trying to make this seem silly or something, because, well, I just thought perhaps a bit of humor might ease the reading of this report since you have to read two dozen on the same case.”  To which he replied in red ink: “I much prefer a report in this manner than some of the rather unimaginative types!”

“Oh my, what did she write about?” you may be thinking.  I have included the uncorrected highlights from the first page and a half of my story/report which is three 1.5 space full typed pages.

picture of Cuyahoga County Courthouse
 courtesy of the Alexander Hamilton Institute

Report Written for Third Period Civics Class, January 14, 1965

“Upon entering the Courthouse we congregated around the jury wheel.  Finally, after much expectant waiting, a little elderly man came to our rescue.  He explained about the jury wheel, which was beautifully carved out of lovely cherry-colored wood. …

“After he was done talking we were rescued (from him) and ushered into the elevators by another little elderly man.  …he led us into the main hall.  Here he left us and went to get some legal newspapers while we stood looking at the surroundings and talking.  He returned with the papers (all old copies) and passed them around.  (I wonder how many ever reached home.) … We were … instructed to keep very still upon entering the court room.

“The case I saw had just gotten started for the morning–in fact we saw the jury while we were waiting in the hall.  When we entered the doctor was on the witness stand.  He was being questioned by Mrs. Culver’s (her real name) lawyer.  It seems she had been injured in a car accident and he had examined her.  He established the fact that her injury most probably resulted from the accident. …

“Mrs. Culver’s lawyer was young.  He seemed to be just starting, for he had an older man with him whom he consulted many times.

“When he was done asking the doctor questions Mr. Page’s (his real name) lawyer, who was elderly and very sly, started asking tricky questions.  He got everything so twisted up that the young lawyer had a hard time straightening it out during the second questioning.  Many times during the questioning by Mr. Page’s lawyer the doctor seemed to be very annoyed.  He kept making faces at the jury which registered his annoyance at the lawyer’s intricate questions.

“After Mrs. Culver’s lawyer was done questioning him for a second time, the doctor was excused by the judge.  He left, very disturbed.”